


What's In a Name

by imagic (Magicnation)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-typical swearing, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:39:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14371098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicnation/pseuds/imagic
Summary: The Sole Survivor likes word games. MacCready is not immune.





	What's In a Name

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have a little light-hearted fun at MacCready's expense.  
> Also, have a few largely-disconnected snippets related only by stupid puns.

It threw him off the first time she did it. They’d run into a spot of unexpected trouble while en route from Covenant to Goodneighbor: a band of raiders with a mercenary streak and uniforms that made MacCready’s blood boil.

He ducked behind a concrete barrier to reload as a bullet sailed over his head and into an abandoned vehicle behind him. It must have hit something important, because suddenly he heard a rush of hot air and felt a blast of heat on his back. Just what he needed, a singed jacket.

“You picked the wrong day to piss me off!” Scowling, he peeked over the barrier and peered down the scope of his rifle. 

“Is there a good day to piss you off?” Alyna asked, firing into the gaggle of gunmen with her 10 mm.

He considered that for a moment as he squeezed the trigger. “Not if you’re a Gunner, I guess.”

She snorted. “Less bitching and more shooting, MacCranky.”

“What did you- that’s not funny!”

There was a final pop as she put a bullet through the last Gunner. “The number of shots you fired in this fight? You’re right. It’s not funny. Neither is the lack of head shots on your part. Really, you’re slipping.”

“I am not,” he protested. “And that’s not what I meant!”

She stowed her pistol in favor of a machete as they headed back onto the road. “Well, say what you mean, pal. We haven’t got all day.”

“We have four hours of daylight left and nothing to do but walk.”

“Touché.” 

MacCready narrowed his eyes at her back, but decided to drop the subject.

 

Rummy had, apparently, died out in the two hundred and some years since the world ended. Seated at a chipped Formica table in a long-abandoned house at the edge of Concord, Alyna gave it a new life by the light of a flickering lantern.

Beaten cards, scrounged up from the bottom of a dusty desk drawer, littered the table before them. The draw pile was nearly empty, and MacCready was frowning down at his hand.

“Cards in my hand count against my points, right?”

“Right.”

“Which is why I want to be the player who goes out. Got it.” He thumbed his cards thoughtfully, then played a run- the six, seven and eight of clubs- layed off the jack of hearts to Alyna’s book, and discarded the queen of diamonds.

She looked up at him over her cards, looking put out. “Well, fine. Count your stupid cards then. Ace is low.”

“I remember.” He pulled a face as he examined the spread before him. Across from him, Alyna quickly tapped through her cards, muttering numbers under her breath as she did so. How she could do it that fast, he didn’t know. The only time he bothered with figures was when confirming his payment.

“Forty-seven,” she announced.

He nodded, leaning closer to the cards and trying not to lose count. Finally, after double-checking his calculations, he had his score. “Fifty-three.”

“What? Are you sure?” She scooted forward and peered at his cards.

“Of course I’m sure!” He folded his arms across his chest. 

“Huh.” She leaned back and scowled. “Beginner’s luck.”

“I make my own luck.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that how it is, MacCheaty?”

Placing a hand on his chest, he adopted a hurt expression. “Me? Never. I’m an honest man.”

“Yeah, right.”

He scooped up the cards and straightened the deck. “Rematch? Or are you afraid of getting your ass kicked by a beginner again?”

With a snort, she brushed off her side of the table. “Like hell. Shuffle those bad boys and deal me in.”

 

Yeah, it threw him off the first time she did it, he mused that night as he lay in the dark, cleaning dirt from under his fingernails with a cheap blade. Made a pun of his name. He hadn’t known what to make of it. His friends called him RJ- he’d told her that once. She’d looked him for a moment, seriously enough, then she’d given him a lopsided grin and asked if it was short for “Really Jumpy.”

At first he had wondered, in the back of his mind, if he’d been snubbed by what he’d thought was his first friend in many years. And then she’d started making stupid puns with his name. It turned out that Alyna Summers had a fondness for puns in general, and they passed many a dull hour on the road trading them back and forth and pretending to be dead serious about it.

MacCready stowed the blade in a pocket and rolled over on the dusty pre-war mattress. His name, he thought, had never struck him as something pun-worthy, but Alyna seemed to have a never-ending supply of them. They weren’t always good, but then, that wasn’t really the point, was it?

His friends called him RJ. His best friend called him whatever the hell she wanted.

 

Piper popped the top off of her Gwinnet Stout. “Here’s to an evening of not being shot at!”

“I’ll drink to that,” Alyna said, clinking her bottle against Piper’s. 

“I’ll drink to beer.” MacCready grinned as lifted his drink to theirs.

Piper leaned back in her chair and took a sip. “Can’t argue with that.”

They were seated around a table in front of the Dugout on a cool Friday night. Most of the patrons were inside, enjoying the warmth of the indoors. Alyna had insisted it wasn’t too chilly to get drunk in the fresh air.

MacCready tipped the last of his beer back and slammed the glass on the table. “Nope. Still sober.”

Alyna looked down at her bottle for a moment before tossing the rest back. Setting the empty vessel down, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. I don’t feel nearly buzzed enough.”

“You drunkards,” Piper laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, why don’t I go get us some more drinks?”

“You’re the best, Pipes,” Alyna said with a smile.

Piper kissed her on the cheek. “I know.”

Putting her feet up on the table, Alyna tipped her chair back and put her hands behind her head. “So. You haven’t told me her name.”

He sat up, eyebrows knit slightly together. “Sorry, who?”

She nodded to the rifle he’d been carrying since they met. “Your gun.”

“Oh.” He let his shoulders relax. “Why do you ask?”

“Come on. Having carried one weapon around for that long, you must have built up a sort of relationship with them. Like Victoria, here.” She pulled her 10 mm out and showed him. “Named for a goddess of victory, you know. So what’s yours?”

“Yeah. Well, actually, it’s kind of a long story-”

“‘Scuse me,” a gravelly voice interrupted. “This the bar?”

They turned to see a grubby fellow in mismatched leathers and smelling strongly of brahmin. He offered them a gap-toothed grin.

“Sure is,” Alyna replied. “You from out of town?”

“Yeah,” he said, adding with a wink, “and you must be from out of this world.”

Her eyebrows rose, and MacCready leaned forward with a snort. “Might want to mind your manners, buddy.”

The stranger didn’t stop grinning. “Oh dear, it seems I’ve pissed off your boyfriend.”

Alyna scoffed. “You would be smart not to mess with him. He may not be my boyfriend, but he is MacCrazy.”

“Good grief,” MacCready muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Can really hold his own with his bare hands. Get him riled up, and he just starts MacCrackin’ heads.”

Oh, what the hell. He played along, cracking his knuckles for effect. “Especially after I’ve had a few,” he added, gesturing to the empty Gwinnet Stouts.

“Mostly, though, he’s a mighty fine shot,” she continued, picking up her empty bottle and inspecting it. “Sniper. Patient. Sit for hours waiting for a target’s head to pop into view. Personally, I don’t sit and wait quite that long. I find what he does a little… MacCreepy.”

He just smiled at the other man, who began to shift his weight nervously.

“I come bearing booze. Not stout, we’re shaking it up a little. What’d I miss?” Piper set their drinks on the table and took her seat.

“Oh, hey babe. This fellow was just heading in to the bar,” Alyna answered, taking her feet off the table.

“Oh. Yeah, I- nice meeting you,” the visitor said, ducking quickly into the Dugout. MacCready snickered at his rapid retreat.

Piper looked skeptically between the pair. “What did you two do to him?”

Alyna grinned as MacCready leveled a glare at her. “MacCracking heads? You’re just reaching now.”

“Oh, shut up and drink your pilsner,” she said, taking her own advice. “Oh, and before you down too many free beers? You’ve got the next round, MacCheapy.”

“Alyna, I swear to god.”

“Heh.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is based on an odd habit I developed while running around the Commonwealth with MacCready. There's just so many fun things to do with his name...
> 
> Also, this has the same Sole Survivor as "Swing Set." If I end up writing more of them, I may gather them all up into a collection just for consistency. I dunno.


End file.
